


Dressing Fine

by ItsClydeBitches



Category: Preacher (TV)
Genre: Boys in Dresses!, Boys in Skirts, Cass feeling cute and loving it, F/M, Fist Fights, M/M, Multi, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:52:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7373446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsClydeBitches/pseuds/ItsClydeBitches
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A fill for the prompt: </p><p>"Because reasons the only clothes Cassidy can get a hold of are skirts/dresses for a while. Jesse likes...Cass cracks jokes about it not being any different from a kilt. Some redneck tries to beat him up for it and either Cass kicks the redneck's ass... or JESSE kicks the redneck's... (i can't choose between protective!Jesse and the image of Cass kicking ass in a skirt. choose for me.)" </p><p>I attempted to provide both!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dressing Fine

**2:08pm.**

 

Tulip had every right to be drinking this time of the day, what with the heat, and the bugs, and the general Annville-ness of it all. She downed her shot and tapped the glass on the bar, none-too subtly asking for more. The whole bottle skid her way and Tulip caught it one handed, wiping the condensation off the side and smearing it onto her neck. _Fuck_ it was hot.

 

Only other people out in this hellhole was a group of Donnie’s boys, noticeably minus Donnie. Tulip had spotted him two days past with his head plowed halfway down a garbage can, looking like he was puking up his greasy lunch... or maybe he was just hanging out with his own kind now. Either way, Tulip couldn’t care less. Maybe the assholes sucking beer down in the corner would be a little less assholish now that their leader had been brought low. Squeak, squeak, little bunny.

 

Tulip smirked around her glass.

 

She was thinking about heading back to Toadvine, more interested in their shitty air conditioner than the company. Still, there were a few decent girls over there and Tulip had every intention of cozying up, buying enough trust from them that they’d let her teach them a thing or two about protection: how to throw a punch without breaking your thumb, tip the weight of a man two times your size, work past that squeamishness and put your damn jaw muscles to use...how to fucking say _no_ when your clients wants something ‘extra’ in the form of naked paintball on a crazy meat-man’s property. You know, simple stuff like that.

 

“Waddya say, Ryan?” Tulip tipped her glass on its edge, making it spin. “Good day to learn about household explosives?”

 

Ryan stilled while wiping down the counter. “...not in here. Please, Ms. Tulip.”

 

“Please received,” she said and winked. Tulip threw down some bills (not nearly enough for what she’d drunk, but Ryan wasn’t going to mention that, now was he?) and grabbed her jacket, the one she’d brought purely for fashionable purposes, but fuck that in this kind of heat. Her shirt was plastered to the small of her back and her feet squelched in her boots. Tulip was halfway off her stool when the bar’s door kicked in, accompanied by a damn freight train of muggy air.

 

“Tulip!” she heard, trying to fish out sunglasses against the glare. She recognized Cass’ voice though. ‘Course she did. How many Irishmen were there in Middle-of-Fucking-Nowhere, Texas? Tulip raised a hand to him, finally finding her shades.

 

“Hey there, sucker—” she started, only to freeze when Cass came into view. Tulip’s phone was in her hand a millisecond later, the church’s number was on speed dial, and it was ringing before she even had it pressed against her ear.

 

Miracle of miracles, Jesse picked up.

 

“Tulip?”

 

“Best get yourself over to the bar. Our boyfriend’s about to get his ass beat.”

 

***

 

**6:37am.**

 

It happened like this:

 

Twelve miles west of Annville was another little community, one so small that it didn’t even have a name. A few of the foolish called it ‘Hammer’ when they got drunk—to the larger town’s ‘Anvil’—but most just referred to it as ‘that place over yonder. The shit one.’ The land mostly housed private residences, though there was a single communal building that travelers could stop in for a restroom or a bit of water: a nunnery.

 

Sisters Margaret and Ann had spent the last fifteen years moving between their home and their surrounding state, knocking on doors and asking for donations—any donations, everything you had to spare. Mostly they got doors slammed in their faces and the ever original, “Fuck you,” but sometimes people gave canned goods. Broken toys that kids had outgrown. Stained clothing.

 

Such was the case that day. Their only haul (so to speak) was from Ms. Bradley who ran a home for girls, all of them growing and none of them getting out. She periodically tossed the nuns her ‘donations’ in exchange for some measly funds to buy more, scratchy clothing. Ann and Margaret didn’t mind. All of their actions went to good causes, one way or another.

 

Normally they’d take the materials back home to distribute, but every once in a while they’d give it all to another establishment nearby. Seemed like a good thing to do that Thursday morning. Sister Margaret wasn’t sure what she thought of Custer’s boy running that church... but Annville itself would always be in need of a little support and care. So they puttered up in their ancient truck and left the box of the Bradley girls’ clothes on the steps of the chapel, a little note taped to the side saying what it was for.

 

Both women were eager for the familiarity of home and their poor truck had twelve more miles to go. They left in a hurry, neither of them noticing the eyes that peeked out carefully from the slit in the doors.

 

Watching them kick up dust, Cass carefully slid out into the early dawn light. He used his blanket to pull the box into the shade and popped the lid, laughing when he did.

 

“Aw shite yeah. Jackpot!”

 

***

 

**2:22pm.**

 

Jesse’s fist connected with the beer belly of Asshole #3 and he dodged, perfectly, when he spewed vomit out on the bar floor. He planted hands on his thighs and crouched, easily avoiding another’s swing. Jesse had just enough time to grin and whisper to the gagging man,

 

“Still think you can just _skirt_ the issue, huh?”

 

***

 

**2:13pm.**

 

Tulip was leaning on the bar, phone pressed to her ear and free hand rubbing at her eyes. She sighed at the ruckus that was building up behind her, trying desperately just to hear Jesse—though she already knew what he’d say. Sure enough, he started laughing.

 

“Sure you don’t mean _Cass_ is going to beat some ass?”

 

Tulip groaned. “You want him killing these guys? Because that’s what’s about to happen.”

 

“They deserve it?”

 

“Absolutely. That wasn’t my damn question though.”

 

Jesse chuckled. “Can’t you handle it? I’m doing very important church business over here.” Tulip heard him swallow—the clink of more than one bottle—and rolled her eyes. “Cass listens to you.”

 

“Bullshit he does. Besides, I think you want to be here for this one.”

 

“Yeah? Why’s that?”

 

So Tulip told him and the phone line went very, very quite. Then, like someone turning the volume back on, Tulip heard the more distinctive clink of Jesse setting his drink down. The creak as he stood from his chair. Footfalls.

 

“I’ll be there soon,” he growled. “Gimme a minute.”

 

***

 

**2:23pm.**

 

The guy missed Jesse and nearly tumbled over his back. Tulip was there waiting with her shot glass, smashing it up into his forehead while her knee connected with his groin. She could hear Cass behind her, taunting the fourth guy in an accent so thick and slang so obscure that it almost wasn’t comprehensible.

 

Tone said it all though.

 

Tulip backed up to run interference before Cass really did kill one of them—not before she flipped her finger up at Jesse though.

 

“That was a _shit_ pun.”

 

***

 

**6:45am.**

 

Jesse was still asleep on the living room couch. Emily wouldn’t be in for hours. It wasn’t a Sunday. Cass ignored the note crying, “For the needy!” and carted the whole box up to the attic. _He_ was the needy one. Guarding local preachers from government clones was real murder on his wardrobe.

 

Heh. Murder.

 

Cass dumped it all out on the bed, rubbing his hands together at the options. Someone had hit up a girl’s school or something because there were all manner of pretty skirts here: blue plated ones, flimsy white ones, a couple that looked like they were right out of a badly adapted Shoujo anime. Cass whistled a tune as he laid them out one by one, setting aside those that looked too small for even his tiny waist. Could probably make those into scarves or something.

 

“Heeeey.” The yellow mini-skirt had a crumpled twenty hidden in the pocket. Cass rolled it and stuck it behind his ear.

 

Then, down at the very bottom of the box, smushed into the corner like it was trash and wasn’t that just a shame, Cass found the cutest little dress this side of Texas. It was cheap to be sure, a cotton material and pretty shapeless beyond the cinched waist. The pattern was great though, pure white with tiny, turquoise polka-dots. The loose top would fit well around his shoulders too. Grinning, Cass kicked off his jeans and slipped the dress over his head.

 

Jesse had given him a filthy mirror, asking with a totally straight face why Cass needed it when he had no reflection to speak of. Hardy har har. He had a damn _fine_ reflection now though. Cass twirled before the mirror, craning his neck to get a look at his ass.

 

It was short—definitely wasn’t made for a six foot guy—but his briefs made up the difference, barely visible and looking like little leggings anyway. More important than even his appearance was how _light_ the dress was. Perfect for what was shaping up to be a scorcher of a day.

 

It was still early though, or late by Cass’ standards. He kicked the other skirts aside and flopped back down onto his mattress. He’d catch some shuteye, then head out for a bit.

 

No point in a new outfit if no one got to see it.

 

***

 

 **2:25pm**.

 

Asshole #4 had continually taunted Donnie about his new, bunny status.

 

When Cass’ heel planted on his dick he made the exact same noise.

 

***

 

**2:15pm.**

 

Jesse hung up the phone harder than Emily would have liked. The damn thing had been on its last legs for... oh, about a decade now. Maybe today was the day it would finally go.

 

 _Someone_ was gonna kick it.

 

Jesse figured he had roughly five minutes to get over there before the brawl started, factoring in Tulip’s ability to BS and Cass’ ability to shit-talk. Luckily the bar was just a short jog away. And Jesse’s closet was even closer.

 

He grabbed something from the back, slipped it on, and was out the door mere seconds later.

 

***

 

**1:30pm.**

 

Cass woke up from his nap, drool sticking his cheek to the mattress and something sizzling close by. Didn’t take him long to realize that something was his leg, sneaky little sunbeam slipping through his makeshift drapes. Cass cursed and slapped the fire out quick. Didn’t want it ruining his new dress.

 

Oh yeah. Feeling better already, Cass gave his teeth a brush and slapped on some deodorant. He didn’t have any good heels or flats anymore, but boots were always hip with skirts, weren’t they?

 

Only one thing left before heading out.

 

The boots made it harder to tiptoe, but Cass managed it all the same. He could hear Jesse in the kitchen grabbing a ‘lunch’ (booze) and skid past when he wasn’t looking, making a dive for the living room and the little table there. He knew Emily kept an ‘emergency’ kit in the drawer and sure enough it was waiting there for ol’ Cass. He snatched the razor and beat it back upstairs.

 

Shaving with plain soap was shit, but beggars couldn’t be choosers and all that. Cass was carful and he had lotion for when he was done. Back in front of the mirror ten minutes later Cass agreed with himself that he looked even better with smooth legs.

 

“I deserve a drink,” he said and, winking at his own reflection, turned in the direction of the bar.

 

***

 

**2:30pm.**

 

It was over faster than Tulip would have liked. There was so little excitement around here. Least these guys could do was give her a decent fight.

 

Fat chance of that. She and Jesse took the last asshole together, a quick hit each and he was down for the count. Jesse shook his head, pulling out a cigarette. Tulip caught Cass throwing up his skirt and mooning his guy before kicking him in the face He stared a moment.

 

“Kinda wanna pee on the bastard,” he said.

 

Tulip grimaced. “Do _not_.” She looked around. “Where the hell did Ryan go?”

 

Cass cocked his thumb at the door. “Beat it a few seconds in, luv. Don’t think he’s comin’ back anytime soon.”

 

Jesse smirked. “Free drinks then?”

 

“Aye. Free drinks!”

 

That was the scene Donnie saw when he came in: Tulip standing over his four unconscious friends, Jesse tickling smoke into her ears, Cass laying across the bar, dress hiked up as he pulled bottled after bottle up. Donnie’s mouth unhinged.

 

“ _Get_ ,” Jesse said and he was gone.

 

***

 

**2:09pm.**

 

“Don’t know what you lot are so upset about,” Cass said. He turned, letting his dress flare out as the four approached in what they probably thought was a menacing manner. “It’s hot as balls out there! Can’t expect a man to be bundled up in jeans an’ the like. No different than a kilt, yeh?”

 

Tulip was leaning on the bar and Cass nearly laughed aloud at her posture. Probably calling Jesse he’d bet. Wouldn’t do to go pissing off this lot too quick then. Not before everyone could join the fun. He plastered on a perfectly innocent expression.

 

“You’re a freak,” one of them growled and wow, that there was original. Cass nodded, game enough. He gestured for more. The guy obliged with, “You look like my _sis_.”

 

“Ah, a beautiful woman then! ‘Course, you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you? Lookin’ at your sis an’ all...”

 

...That went right over his head.

 

It was too easy, really. Stalling these guys for five minutes or so. The heavyset one had Cass up by the front of his dress, fist poised and the “I’m gonn—” threat issuing when Jesse kicked in the door.

 

“You’re gonna _what_?” he said.

 

Jesse had quite the reputation in their small town. That was bad enough. But a preacher with a reputation... wearing a flowing black skirt when these shits were beating on Cass for wearing a _dress_?

 

Well. That there was trouble.

 

Cass enjoyed the fear flooding into the guy’s face. “Look better than you,” he sang and head-butted him right between the eyes.

 

Jesse charged forward. Tulip pocketed her phone.

 

***

 

**2:35pm.**

 

Tulip grinned a slow, sticky grin.

 

“So we’ve got booze,” she said, gesturing to the collection Cass had gotten them. “Booth to ourselves. _Bar_ to ourselves—minus those lugs. It’s hot as hell, I’m bored, and both my boys are wearing easy-access skirts.” Her grin became predatory. “Whatever should we do?”

 

Cass and Jesse exchanged a look, then immediately began scrambling. Jesse only had a packet of Camels to shove at Tulip, but across from her Cass let out a hoot, pulling a twenty from his boot and slamming it down on the table. Jesse cursed.

 

Tulip laughed. “He wins,” she said.

 

Cass let out a cackle as Tulip slid to the floor beneath the booth, though it changed to a whine pretty damn quick. His hands were somewhere under the table, her head was somewhere beneath the dress. Jesse kicked his legs up onto the seat Tulip had vacated.

 

“That’s fine,” he drawled, staring at Cass’ features. “I do like watchin’.”

 

***

 

**6:40am.**

 

Sister Ann rolled down her window, waving her hand against the heat. She watched the church in their rearview mirror where, surprisingly, the box had already disappeared.

 

“I hope those clothes find a good home,” she said.

 

Sister Margaret patted her hand. “Oh yes. I’m sure they’ll be used righteously.”

 

Fin.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> [Feel free to stop by my tumblr (itsclydebitches) and send me a prompt!]


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